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Etoile takes her mug. "Thanks," she replies. "Ah, nothing, just wondering if you'd seen him around." She manages a thin smile, then adopts a more wry expression. "You been yelled at personally about the importance of papers yet?"

Genevieve shakes her head quietly, "No. Not -yet-. I.. I have mine, and those for the children, but Xavier's father took the wedding papers and a lot of things to Paris… to keep them safe from destruction. If there was a bombing or something, you know?" Gene murmurs, a touch of tense firmness to her voice as she confesses that bit of information.

The door opens and Wagner enters. The old Scharfuhrer's right hand grips the MP40 slung low in front of him, casually, probably more out of habit than because he's about to spray and pray. It still looks better than walking around with his hands in his pockets, anyway. He looks around, then heads up to the counter, bootheels clicking on the lacquered floor. Wagner clears his throat and waits.

Etoile purses her lips before replying. "I don't think that's going to fly with them, Gene," she murmurs, very quietly. "I mean, I'm not sure what they'd do if they found out, or even if it'd be that big a deal to them, but they seem pretty strict about excuses. We're meant to get any missing papers replaced, or any papers not currently with us returned to our persons. That's how I understood it." Speaking of nazis… Etoile catches sight of Wagner as he's walking towards the counter and shuts up (hopefully) before he's in earshot, adopting a far more conversational volume when she speaks again. "Can I order you anything, sir?"

"Maybe it won't matter…" Gene murmurs quietly just as the door is opening. Her eyes then go a bit wide, turning on the barstool where she sits to watch the man enter the room. She doesn't say anything more, just scooping up her coffee to take a good, quieting gulp of the stuff as she somewhat nervously watches the man.

"Get me some coffee. COF-FEE," Wagner says in German, pointing at a coffee cup. He stares at Etoile, considering her for a moment. The corner of his lips twitches, almost unconsciously, curling up in a sneer (or maybe a snarl). "Do you speak German?" Wagner asks in German.

Etoile near as dammit jumps out her skin. MAN WANT COFFEE. "I'm sorry sir, I don't understand you," she replies, in French. She points at the coffee cup as well, puting two and two together. "Do you want coffee?"

Genevieve will not laugh. Will NOT laugh. Thank god she's drinking coffee and isn't half way through her usual bottle of wine or her control wouldn't be quite so strict. Still, she hides a twitch of her lips behind her coffee mug and forces herself to gulp down a bit of it as she restrains any reaction other than the proper, stony silence.

"I won't speak your rotten language today," Wagner says in German. Maybe he understands French. Maybe he even speaks a little. But not today. He grins to Etoile, something he seldom does and something he almost never does with genuine humor. This grin is no exception, all teeth and not the slightest twinkle in his blue eyes. "Coffee, yes." The Scharfuhrer removes his helmet and sets it on the counter, left hand going to scratch at the huge scar on his head. His right hand continues gripping the MP40.

Etoile looks to Genevieve for help. "Do you speak German?" she mutters to her. The grin is not helping her mood. "I think he wants coffee." She heads to the fresh pot on the stove behind the bar, finds a clean mug, and pours a cup for Wagner. Then, quickly, she returns and sets the mug on the counter in front of him, watching him carefully to try and figure out if she's done the right thing or not.

Genevieve shakes her head towards Etoile, "I don't, sorry." She then looks back to Wagner, her eyes narrowing upon him just a little bit. Fortunately, she doesn't speak German, or she might have had a smart remark to his comment about languages. As is, her eyes follow him, "You speak no French at all? I think you will have a hard time of it here." She rambles on in french, watching him closely for any sign of recognition or understanding.

Wagner's eyes narrow. He picks up his stahlhelm from the counter, knocking the coffee onto the floor. He doesn't seem to mind. The Scharfuhrer puts his helmet back on, turning to gaze at Genevieve. A few long strides takes him a few feet from her. "Stand up," he hisses in German, gesturing with his left hand to the woman.

Etoile stops staring at Wagner's scar, at least. She opens her mouth to speak when he knocks the coffee to the floor, then quickly thinks better of it. When he marches over to Genevieve, she just stands there, and rubs at her temples.

Genevieve looks over to Etoile for a moment, her eyes going wide, half wondering what she did. Hell, she's sober! She's supposed to be sensible when she's sober. Still, Gene looks upon his warily. She has no clue what he's ordering her to do other than the gesture of his hand. Slowly, uncertainly, she slips her high heels to the floor and rises off her chair, facing him and hoping that was all he asked. "…Yes?" She responds, in French, of course.

Wagner takes a step up to Genevieve and stares at her for a moment, that vacant stare that makes him look old and a little crazy at the same time. The vacant look vanishes and his face twists, eyes widening in anger. He slaps her hard with the back of his left hand across the face. "I told you I wasn't going to speak your rotten language today, and yet you questioned me," the Scharfuhrer says to the woman, now speaking in heavily-accented, but essentially correct French. Wagner's voice is calm and his features have returned to their normal, cold states. To Etoile he says in French, "I don't want coffee anymore. Let's see your papers instead." In German, he commands, "Aushweis, bitte!"

Chevalier enters the cafe and places his hat and coat on a rack near the door. He finds an empty table and has a seat.

«Game» Chevalier moves into Table 2.

Genevieve wasn't expecting that. Perhaps that was her issue, she's made it through this entire ordeal unscraped and little intimidated. Her eyes go a bit wide as she sees it coming, and yet her pride doesn't let her stand down. The crack echoes rather nicely through the room as his left hand touches her cheek and her head does swing to the side. "…Merde.." She breathes out. It hurt more than she expected. Still, she doesn't fall, or cry or so anything but slowly bring herself into standing again. She blinks against the slight moisture in her eyes from the sting of it all and mutely reaches into her back pocket, pulling out her small folder of personal identification. "I do not understand German, sir. I am sorry I did not comprehend your previous words." She attempts to make the statement respectful but there is still that underline of cool bitterness to it all, especially now as her cheek reddens from the hit.

Etoile still says absolutely nothing, which takes a considerable amount of willpower on her part. Her expression has turned guarded and unreadable. She glances to Genevieve, likely to check up on her, then reaches under the bar to take out a leather handbag, sorting through it for a moment before taking the papers out of it. Given that she works in a cafe that gets quite a bit of German traffic, she's had the forethought to keep her papers in arm's reach at all times. She checks over the papers to make sure they're all there, then offers them to Wagner.

Unfortunately, Sofia wanders in at about this moment. She seems to be the picador to a bull, or the roiling clouds before a storm. Whatever it is, she blinks, hearing the sound of someone being hit? She tilts her head, green eyes narrowing slightly. She's not moving out of the doorway for a moment, probably to gauge the situation. She does lift an eyebrow though.

Wagner sneers at Genevieve and snatches her identification, gives it a cursory glance, then drops it to the ground. He goes to Etoile and grabs her identification. "Your friend's tongue has a bad habit of flopping around needlessly in her mouth," he tells Etoile in French, glancing at Etoile's ID. "Don't you agree?"

Genevieve is really quite happy that she's sober. It means she has the intelligence enough to not speak back again, even as he tosses her ID to the floor. She bites her tongue, forcing herself to swallow all words as she slowly drops towards the floor to scoop up her papers and ID booklet. Her body practically trembles in restraint, anger clear upon her bowed features.

Etoile really hesitates before speaking again. Just shrugging at him probably isn't going to cut it, but she evidently has no real desire to agree with Wagner, either. "We are trying to learn some German, sir," she murmurs, in reply. "In a month or so, I shouldn't have to speak to you in French."

Sofia is standing, stepping out of the doorway, just to be sure she isn't blocking traffic. Ah, herr Wagner. She stays silent then. She is a mute statue, staring with a cold, distant demeanor. Nazi Statue(TM). Put one in YOUR cafe today.

"I don't care about any of that," Wagner says to Etoile in French. "See to it that your friend shows… restraint. Next time, who knows what may happen, with martial law in effect?" That predatory grin reappears on his face and he strides over to Chevalier. "Aushweis, bitte," he says, holding out his left hand expectantly. His MP40's muzzle rises, a little.

Genevieve sinks back down onto the stool where she was sitting, slipping her papers into her back pocket. But then she pauses, catching sight of the mess the German made in knocking over his coffee. She just clenches her teeth and stands up, ducking around the bar to grab a cloth, "I will get it, Etoile. I am sorry." She does sound sincerely sorry to the woman, though the tight anger in her voice seems to outweight anything. "Do you have wine back there still?"

"Understood, sir." Etoile mutters, putting her papers back in her bag. Now that Wagner has moved, she takes a step back to get a mop, but Genevieve has beat her to it. "We do. And don't mention it," she tells her, simply. It seems she'd say more, but… well.

Chevalier looks up at the Nazi and with a most friendly smile he rises from his seat while reaching inside of his jacket. He removes his papers and presents them to Wagner saying in a most pleasent voice (in French of course) "Here you are."

Now that Wagner is talking with someone, Sofia peers around, as if looking for someone. She pauses, glancing to the bar and stepping over. In French, she asks, "Excuse me, have you seen Herr Doktor around?" She is doing her best to keep her voice low, not wanting to intrude in on any conversations.

Wagner gives the papers a quick glance then tosses them back onto the table. He turns (without so much as a Danke to Chevalier) and notices Sofia. "What are you doing here?" he says in German. "If you order the coffee, make sure they don't spill it on you." He gestures at the spill getting cleaned up by Genevieve, smirking.

Genevieve finishes cleaning off the bar and the back counter fairly quickly before she grabs that previously mentioned mop and moves to get what is on the floor. Her eyes loft towards Sofia, watching the woman with a slightly cold gaze, but she has no clue who Herr Doktor is and probably the woman was asking Etoile. So Genevieve continues to clean, ignoring the slight swelling of her cheek. If she pretends it didn't happen, it'll just go away. "Get out the wine, for both of us…" She murmurs quietly towards Etoile. In French, of course.

Doktor Schmidt opens the doors, stalking in. He shoots a perumpory glance at Chevalier and the two waitresses before making his way towards Sofia and Wagner. He offers Wagner a curt nod, and Sofia a Look. "Off duty, Fraulein Weir? Clearly, I am not working you hard enough." The gaunt doktor's smirk indicates that this is very unlikely, and the glitter in his hard, grey eyes that she must thus be shirking her many, many duties.

Etoile goes to help Genevieve with finishing what's left of cleaning up, and offers a rather grim smile. "I will, but not yet. Best wait until the cafe is relatively empty again, I think." She looks up to answer Sofia, but it's too late - Doktor Schmidt is already here. So she returns to speaking with Genevieve. "Shall I find you some ice for that?"

Chevalier sits looking rather bored softly drumming his fingers on the table.

"Me? I am looking for Herr Doktor, I had somethings he might wished to see. Although, coffee would be nice. Maybe after …" She replies in German. A little smile at his comment. Ah hah. Then, the cold wind enters. A flinch, almost as if reflexive crosses her face for a split second. Sofia's left eye kind of twitches and she turns around to see Herr Doktor. "Actually, not at all Herr Doktor. I was looking for you, I had found some old papers and records," Sofia wasn't shirking, really! "I was unsure if you wished to see them before I put them away. Then cleaning…" Many, many duties indeed.

Genevieve murmurs, still quiet, towards Etoile, "Probably wise… about waiting." Gene then pauses, taking a moment to look in the closest mirrored surface towards her cheek. It's a fight against pride and appearances and, probably sadly for Gene's strength of personality, worry for her pretty face wins out. "…Ice… would be nice. Thank you."

"We should have some somewhere, I hope," Etoile tells Genevieve, and rises to her feet. She spares one glance back at the small collection of Germans, then heads to the kitchen to check on the small supply of frozen goods.

Chevalier takes a small book out of a front jacket pocket and makes to all appearences to read it. Instead he makes a mental note of Sofia's reactions upon seeing / hearing the Doktor, the flinch, the eye twitch. Likewise he the cold 'curt' nod offered the other German.

"My business here is done," Wagner tells Doktor Schmidt and Sofia. "Enjoy the… ambiance," he says. The Scharfuhrer heads for the door, then stops. He glances at the Frenchies gathered, as if memorizing their faces for future reference, then leaves.